


I Will Move Heaven and Earth (To Bring You Home)

by Telaryn



Series: Second Chances [9]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Dirty Talk, Emotional Manipulation, Escape, Family Drama, Fugitives, Gen, Government Agencies, Guns, Hiding, Hydra Grant Ward, Interrogation, M/M, Multiple Crossovers, On the Run, Phil Coulson Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 01-02 Hiatus, Shooting Guns, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he tries to solidify their position in the wake of the battle at the Triskellion and the collapse of SHIELD, Coulson can't stop thinking about Clint Barton - labeled a high-value target by HYDRA and missing in the chaos.  What he doesn't know is that Clint has gone to ground in Portland - taking refuge with Skye's cousin and her odd little family.  Once he finds out, however, Coulson will stop at nothing to have Clint back at his side...and in his arms.</p><p>Luckily he and Clint both still have people willing and able to back their play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Move Heaven and Earth (To Bring You Home)

**Author's Note:**

> As the notes indicate, this section of the series takes place between S1 and S2 of Agents of SHIELD, right at the point where Grant Ward declares he will only communicate with Coulson through Skye as an intermediary. Ward is only in here to set the time in canon and frame where Coulson, May and Skye's thoughts were at around the time they found Clint. He is never a point of view character, and he is not viewed favorably by those who are.
> 
> He is also not, I feel, unreasonably demonized, but if you stand with Ward consider yourself warned off this fic.

_”I’ll talk to Skye. Nobody else.”_

There were so many colorful ways Coulson wanted to tell Ward what he could do with his demands, and in the end all he could do was calmly get up from his chair, turn the field delineating Ward’s cell opaque, and walk out of the room. Three weeks lost, with nothing but an unreasonable set of conditions to show for it. Three weeks holding in all his anger and frustration at the scope of Ward’s betrayal, at the people who had died so HYDRA could discover what he hadn’t even known himself at the time.

Three weeks he should have been spending consolidating his resources and bringing in every SHIELD agent they could find who hadn’t already been lost to HYDRA.

Melinda was waiting for him when he left the pit. “You know…” she began, but he shook his head.

“Not now.” He sighed. “Not now because if you ask I’m probably going to say yes, and I’m trying really hard not to be that person.” He started down the corridor towards his office, not protesting when May fell in step with him even though he desperately wanted to be alone for even a few precious moments. “Where’s Skye?”

“Studying,” May said. “I want to shift her to some sniper work, but her math isn’t what it needs to be.”

Talk of sniper work brought thoughts of Clint in their wake, along with the gut-wrenching awareness that he hadn’t seen or spoken to the archer since SHIELD had officially fallen. “I’ll need to see her this afternoon – tell her about Ward’s conditions.”

Melinda grabbed his arm then, dragging him to a stop. “Phil, you can’t seriously be considering ordering her to do that. To spend one on one time with the man who kidnapped her, terrorized her and nearly killed two of her best friends?”

“You think the idea doesn’t make me sick?” he asked, letting her see some of what he was feeling because it was May and she would always have his back. “I am out of options. I still have agents in the field, cut off from anything that will help them. I have people here who are risking death or imprisonment every time they poke their noses topside. I’m not going to order her to talk to the bastard, but she has to understand what we’re facing if something doesn’t change and soon.”  
*****************************  
Even though Faith’s family were taking every reasonable precaution to help him feel comfortable and safe, Clint’s thoughts went to the automatic pistol under his pillow at least half a dozen times an hour. He’d woken up once and it wasn’t there; that had been a very bad hour until Eliot frog-marched a very chagrined Parker into the room and made her apologize before returning the weapon to him. Clint had felt steadier on getting his gun back, but no matter how many times everybody tried to explain to him that it was ‘just Parker’, the ease with which the thief had lifted his weapon badly rattled him.

A soft knock on the door frame brought his head up. Sophie Devereaux – one of the most genuinely terrifying women he’d ever met – was smiling at him. “I brought lunch. Do you think you can make it to the kitchen, or should I fix a tray?”

Clint’s rational mind knew that his injuries weren’t extensive enough to keep him bedridden, but the thought of leaving his weapon behind even to go to the next room flashed through his mind and all the desire in the world to be normal again couldn’t force him to move.

“I won’t be offended if you bring it with you,” Sophie said gently. “Your robe has a pocket, doesn’t it?”

Startled that she would even suggest it, Clint stared at her for a long moment, his eyes a touch too wide. “I shouldn’t…” he began. “I know I’m not in any danger here.”

“Agent Barton, not only have you nearly died in this past handful of weeks, you’ve had everything you believed in for your entire adult life ripped away from you.” Sophie crossed her arms over her chest, but her expression was still kind and understanding. “You’re entitled to be a bit irrational about the whole thing. I promise. Now come and eat.”

Put that way, Clint could hardly refuse. It was a mark of how much he’d healed since making it to Portland that a part of him still wanted to try. Either way, he went ahead and put his gun in the pocket of the robe Eliot had loaned him, then padded out to join Sophie at the kitchen table.

Sophie was setting out containers from a disturbingly large bag. “Eliot said no to any hamburgers until you’re well enough to make it down to the pub. They don’t travel well, and he said something about not being equipped to make them properly here, but I must admit he’s something of a snob in that area.”

Clint made a non-committal sound, too overwhelmed by the amount of food Spencer had sent. “I really hope this is for both of us,” he said, beginning to check the containers for himself.

“You didn’t bring him anything to hit,” Sophie said matter-of-factly. “I’m afraid in the absence of that, this is how Eliot expresses himself.”  
***********************************  
Skye had suspected for a while that the wind was shifting in this direction. The entire base knew that Coulson had been disappearing for long stretches of time, and every time they saw him the Director was more withdrawn and more frustrated. “He’s got a lot on his plate,” was all May would admit to, before she loaded Skye up with enough work to keep the former hacker from trying to seek Coulson out on her own.

“You don’t sound surprised,” Coulson said, after calling her into his office and telling her that the ‘project’ he’d been working on in the Pit was none other than her disgraced former SO. “I thought May was keeping you too busy to go looking into this.”

 _That_ got her back up, but Skye knew she couldn’t unload her frustrations on Coulson. Not now, not when he was trying to carry so much on his own. “Ignoring the fact that you wouldn’t even have a network for me to hack if it wasn’t for me, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you were interrogating somebody. Since there has been literally no information on Ward since we relocated here and you’re not the sort to waste a potential advantage he goes automatically to the top of the list.”

Coulson couldn’t help but be impressed at her deductive skills. _Or I’ve just gotten unforgivably sloppy,_ he thought, which sadly could also be true. “I don’t want anyone else to know he’s on site just yet,” he told Skye. “Especially FitzSimmons. He’s still too valuable for me to risk what they might feel compelled to do.”

Skye exhaled softly. “You’re not worried about what I might do?” She still had nightmares about being tied up and at Garrett and Ward’s mercy, not knowing if she was ever going to see her family again. _Kissing him…touching him…_

She saw in Coulson’s eyes that he understood where she was coming from and knew how incredibly unfair this all was. “No I’m not,” he said simply. “I’m not because when I ask you to go down and talk to him, it isn’t going to be an order. If you can’t do it, you just say so and I’ll find another way.”

Skye grinned wryly at him, even though her eyes were aching with unshed tears. “You just told me there was no other way.”

Busted, Coulson huffed out a quiet breath, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll find another way.” He paused. “You have to know how much I hate bringing this to you, Skye.”

“I do,” she sighed. “I also know that you’re right – we’ve got people out there depending on us.” Clint Barton’s name quivered on the end of her tongue, but Skye knew that if she asked it would muddy the waters for both of them. Suddenly whatever intel she could convince Ward to give up would be about Coulson finding his lover, not the safety and well-being of hundreds of agents they hadn’t been able to account for yet.

The inevitability of her situation closed in around her. “I’ll do it,” she said quietly. She forced herself to look directly at Coulson. “Whatever it takes.”  
******************************  
Faith had never enjoyed being lectured, but she had finally reached a point in her life where she could understand that sometimes people needed to rant at her when they felt she was doing something foolish. _Which admittedly is pretty often._

Plus, everything went down better with Eliot’s cooking – even Nate giving into his fatherly instincts.

“I’m not saying we need to turn him in,” he said, after laying out for Faith and Eliot exactly how he felt about them continuing to shelter Clint, “but we need to pass him along. This is not a stable situation, Faith, and from where I sit it’s not getting any better.”

“His injuries are almost healed,” Eliot offered. “He’s pretty stiff, but now that he’s moving around that should change quickly.”

“The injuries we can _see_ are healing,” Nate pointed out. “He still sleeping with a gun under his pillow?”

And there was nothing Faith could say to that – she knew Nate wouldn’t have asked the question if he wasn’t reasonably sure of the answer. “He hasn’t pulled it in days,” she said quietly, shoving another forkful of food in her mouth.

Nate raised an eyebrow. “I hope you understand how little comfort that brings me, especially with Sophie over there right now.”

“Nate,” Eliot said calmly. When father and daughter turned towards him he was holding up a length of dark metal. “Give me a little credit, will you?”

 _A firing pin,_ Faith realized, her brain making the leap immediately to where it had come from and why Eliot had it. “Oh man,” she said out loud, shaking her head. “He is going to _kill_ you when he figures out what you did.”

The hitter’s hand closed around the pin with a snap, then he stowed it back in his pocket. “And after he gets his head on straight he’ll thank me for keeping him from accidentally shooting someone.” Eliot’s expression went serious. “He’s not carrying the worst case of PTSD I’ve ever seen, but even the mild cases can make you do things you ordinarily wouldn’t. I’m not taking any chances.”

Which was fair, Faith was forced to acknowledge – especially considering Eliot’s overall views on gun violence. “I was wondering why you were so easy to convince,” she admitted. ‘On the surface it was completely out of character.”

Eliot shifted on his stool. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to risk Clint hearing and thinking that I wasn’t willing to shelter him. This isn’t about that.”

“It is though,” Faith said. “You’re keeping him from doing something he would never do in his right mind.” She paused. “And I get why you wouldn’t tell me either – I’m not really good at keeping those kinds of secrets.”

The three of them ate in silence for a few minutes, then Nate asked, “Have you heard from Skye?”

Guilt and worry soured Faith’s insides. She shook her head. “Clint said if she was with Coulson they’re probably observing some sort of radio silence so it doesn’t _necessarily_ mean something that she hasn’t tried to get hold of me.”

“But if she was with Coulson, that also means she was in the thick of the fighting,” Eliot pointed out. “Something about him made him a high value target for HYDRA.”

Exhaling softly, Faith nodded. “What he said.”  
***********************************  
Skye had known it would be hard seeing Ward again – she just hadn’t appreciated how much it would churn her stomach listening to all those words that had meant so much to her once upon a time.

_”It’s good to see you, Skye.”_

_”I’ve been thinking about you.”_

She’d forced herself to maintain eye contact with him, but the eyes he gave her in return were soft and caring, full of concern for her. _It’s a lie,_ she reminded herself, trying to shove the tangle of her emotions deep enough for it to stop hurting so much. _It’s all a lie._

“Did he give you anything?” Startled, she looked up to see that May had approached her while she was lost in thought. Not trusting herself to speak just yet, Skye nodded.

May seemed to appreciate what she was feeling – her SO’s expression turned unexpectedly gentle and sympathetic. “He wants to see you as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

“Let’s get it over with,” Skye said. “The sooner I make my report, the sooner I can take a shower.” She started to follow May in the direction of Coulson’s office, but paused as her cell phone chimed for her attention.

“Who is it?” May asked as she pulled out the device to check.

 _Great – another source of guilt._ “Another text from Faith,” she said, showing May the screen. “She’s been reaching out every couple of days, trying to make sure I made it through the firestorm. I haven’t responded,” she added, catching a flash of concern in the other woman’s expression. “I remember what you and Coulson said.”

May looked thoughtful. “Tell Coulson about that, if you haven’t already. I know we declared radio silence when we retreated here, but Slayers are…different.”

The Director was at his desk when they entered, but he came automatically – almost nervously, Skye noted – to his feet. “How did it go?”

Pushing her emotions down again, Skye said, “It’s going to be easier if I have specific questions – he’s definitely more interested in getting inside my head than he is giving up any useful intel. I did get some frequencies and target lists that might be helpful, but not much else.”

Something dangerous had shadowed Coulson’s expression on hearing confirmation Ward was trying to reestablish a connection with her, but otherwise he managed to keep his composure. “You’re willing to go back?”

Skye nodded quickly. “As long as we have a plan. Like I said – it’s going to go better if I have specific questions. He swears he’s not going to lie to me, and I think he’s telling the truth on that score.”

Coulson nodded. After a beat May nudged her. “Sir, my cousin has been texting me. I haven’t responded, but…she doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

“Text her back,” Coulson said without hesitation. “Be smart, but there’s no reason for her to continue to worry.”

Skye pulled out her phone and fired off a quick response to the text. “Thank you,” she said to Coulson.

He smiled. “I know how important she is to you. You should have said something sooner.”

She was about to point out how busy and distracted they’d all been, but Skye’s phone chimed just that moment. Glancing down at the screen, she help but grin at the message Faith had sent by way of reply.

“I take it she’s pleased you’re okay?” Coulson asked. 

Stepping forward, Skye passed him the device. “This message is for you.”  
******************************  
Reading the text Skye’s cousin had sent, Coulson felt a knot of tension he hadn’t even realized was there finally loosen. _Tell Coulson that I have something that belongs to him. It came through the storm a bit battered, but I’ll keep it safe as long as I can._

“So that does mean what I think it means?” Skye asked.

Rousing himself from thoughts too private and emotional to indulge right now, Coulson nodded and passed back her phone. “We need to be careful about communicating with outsiders until we determine how deep Hydra has sunk their roots, but it seems like your cousin knows how to handle herself.” He paused, recognizing the glint in Skye’s dark eyes that meant she was still waiting for something from him. “Yes,” he said, allowing himself a small smile, “I’m happy Agent Barton is safe. Please tell Faith that for me?”

Skye held up her phone. “You could tell her yourself.”

Sobering again, Coulson shook his head. “I have to assume any conversation I participate in is going to be monitored for at least the immediate future.” It was easier to do the right thing when he thought of it in terms of keeping Clint clear of the firestorm that was swirling around him.

After Skye sent a carefully worded reply, May sent her down to the firing range for an hour with a promise to ‘check up on her shortly’. “It’s got to be killing you,” she said, once they were alone. “You really haven’t talked to him since everything went to hell?”

Throat suddenly thick with all the emotion he couldn’t afford to give into, Coulson shook his head. “That text is the first indication I’ve had in over a month that he’s even alive, much less okay.” He sat down heavily, noting that his hands were actually shaking.

Melinda came forward. “We need to get him back here. Not just because of what he means to you, but short of Cap and Agent Romanoff do you really think there’s a higher value target out there? Faith’s people might be able to keep him safe in the short term, but HYDRA is still hunting him. You know they are.”

Coulson sighed. “And if I go myself, I could be leading them right to him.”

“Skye and I will go,” May said. She gripped his shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll bring him home.”  
*************************************  
It felt like a dream, but the truth of it was in his hands. Clint forced himself to reread the text Faith had gotten from her cousin. _Coming to retrieve package. Promises made must be kept, no matter the cost._

Faith raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m guessing the last part means something to you?”

Nodding, Clint passed her phone back to her. “It’s proof that the message is legit, and they’re coming with Coulson’s knowledge.”

“The SHIELD director wouldn’t come here himself, would he?” Eliot asked. Clint couldn’t blame Spencer for looking concerned. Phil Coulson was arguably one of the most wanted men in the world. Him showing up in Portland would bring far more heat down on Faith and her family than Clint wanted.

Still…”I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “Even if he wanted to come himself, I can’t imagine whatever power structure is still in place would let him.” He thought about Melinda May and said a silent prayer that his old friend had made it through the fall. If she was still alive, Clint knew Melinda would do whatever it took to keep Coulson safe.

“All right,” Eliot said. He put his hand in his pocket and took something out. “Don’t make me regret giving this back to you.” He pitched something in Clint’s direction – the archer put up his hand and caught it.

 _My firing pin?_ It took Clint’s over-taxed brain several seconds to work out what had happened. When he realized what Eliot had done, Clint bowed his head – embarrassed. “Thank you,” he said once he could trust himself again. He looked up at Eliot. “I had all the best intentions in the world, but…thank you.”

“I don’t trust my family to anyone’s good intentions,” Eliot said. “Don’t make me sorry I gave that back to you.”

Clint exhaled softly. “I won’t. I swear.” Reaching under his pillow, he reinstalled the pin, then checked the weapon over and made sure it was ready to fire. “Okay – how are we going to do this?”

“As quickly and cleanly as possible,” was Eliot’s reply.  
*****************************************  
Skye felt strange occupying the co-pilot’s chair of the quinjet. Luckily May didn’t need her to do anything; it just felt strange sitting in back all by herself.

“You’re going to be distracted by seeing your cousin and worrying about what condition Agent Barton is going to be in,” May said as they finally entered Portland’s air space. “Remember this isn’t a social visit. You need to keep your focus on the perimeter. HYDRA nearly had Agent Barton before he went to ground; we can’t expect that they just gave up and went away.”

“Got it,” Skye said, drawing comfort and strength from May’s words. _You can do this._ By all reports her SO hadn’t even hesitated when the mission had come up. _Skye and I will bring him home._ It was a level of trust in her abilities that once upon a time she’d figured never to have ffrom Melinda May.

“Van at the edge of the clearing,” she reported, pulling out her phone again. “Eleven o’clock.” Before May could remind her, she fired off a text to Faith.

_Black van? Little cliché, don’t you think?_

A moment later, her reply flashed across the screen. _Do not disrespect Lucille. Where are you?_

Below them the sliding door of the van opened showing a figure crouched in the opening. Melinda made a sharp noise of disapproval. “What are they doing?”

 _We’re cloaked,_ Skye typed. _Just above you._

The figure in the doorway glanced down at something in her hand, confirming for Skye that it was her cousin. _Get down here,_ came a fresh text across her screen. _Eliot’s about ready to jump out of his skin._

“Eliot wants us on the ground as soon as possible,” Skye dutifully reported.

“No argument there,” May said. “Tell them to stay put until the ramp is down.”

Skye kept her focus on the van as May brought them in for a landing. Alec Hardison, the group’s hacker, was exiting the driver’s side of the van. Faith had already gotten out, and was helping someone who turned out to be Agent Barton as soon as he got to his feet. Another figure came around the back of the van – Skye was startled to see that it wasn’t Eliot as she’d expected, but her uncle Nathan Ford.

“Get to the hatch,” May ordered, flipping the switch that dropped their stealth cloak. Skye bailed out of her chair without question, drawing her pistol as she ran. The hatch was already lowering as she moved to the end of it – the point would be to stay on the ground as little time as possible.

The first shot echoed across the clearing as Faith, Nate and Clint began to run. It was followed by a second, then a third. Skye jumped to the ground as soon as she could and joined Clint and Nate in returning fire. Overhead she heard the servos in the gun turret come screeching to life, and a moment later a rocket blasted into the trees bordering their location.

“No!” Skye heard Faith yell. “Eliot’s tracking the gunman!”

“May – cease fire!” Skye called, knowing that the other woman would pick up her warning. “Eliot’s in the brush!” The trio running towards her reached her a second later.

 _”I hear one more shot, all bets are off,”_ May warned. _“You and Barton get your asses up here.”_

“He’s all right,” Faith told her, before Skye could apologize. “Pissed off, but he’ll get over it.” She pulled Skye into a quick, tight hug. “Looking bad-ass there, runt.”

Mindful of May’s warning about getting distracted, Skye nevertheless smiled at her cousin. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

“We’re looking forward to it,” her uncle said. “Now I think this belongs to you?”

On the surface, Clint Barton looked as whole and capable as he ever did, but Skye could see a shadow in his storm-colored eyes disturbingly similar to the one that had been hovering around Coulson ever since everything went to hell. “I know somebody who is going to be very happy to see you, Agent Barton,” she said. “Shall we go put him out of his misery?”  
***************************************  
Truth was, Eliot was more pissed at himself for not taking into account that the SHIELD pilot might decide firing blindly into a stand of trees was an acceptable response to sniper fire. He’d dodged the worst of the explosion, let the team know he was still all right, and managed to find enough of the HYDRA gunman still in one piece for them to turn over to whatever government or paramilitary organization Eliot could find that would be appropriately grateful to have him.

Hearing approaching footsteps, he looked up to see Faith sliding her way downhill towards his position. “All clear,” she reported. “Lucille’s by the side of the road – maybe five hundred yards.”

Eliot snorted. “Yeah, uphill.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” Faith retorted, reaching his side just as he got to his feet. “You want me to carry the big bad gunman for you?” Abruptly her expression sobered. “How are you, really?”

“Damn tired of dealing with government types,” he sighed. “I know you’ve got these shiny new connections you’re excited about, but this whole mess has done nothing but remind me why I turned my back on the whole mess in the first place.” Pulling her into a one-armed hug, he leaned down and kissed her.

“Sounds good to me,” Faith agreed. “As soon as we dump off tall, dark and arachnoid, what say we lock the doors and turn off the phones for about three days?”

That pulled a smile out of him. “Lady, I like the way you think.”  
*************************************  
Clint could feel Agent May’s surprise when he took the co-pilot’s chair. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve taught the runt to fly?” he asked, flipping the necessary switches and eyeballing the readouts that were within the scope of the co-pilot’s duties.

Melinda snorted softly. “She’s coming along very quickly, but not _that_ quickly.” Anyone else would have questioned whether Clint was healed enough to be doing anything but sitting in back and trying to sleep, but that had never been May’s style. “In fact, if Coulson keeps you around base for a bit, I could use your help. I want to start her on the sniper rifle, but her math skills are understandably not where they should be.”

Clint remembered his early days in SHIELD, and the supervising officers he had frustrated when they demanded he explain his process and he just…couldn’t. _Do it or have somebody bigger and meaner beat you and withhold your food isn’t the kind of process most people can relate to._ Out loud he said, “I’ll do what I can, but you have to remember my marksmanship was set before I came to SHIELD. If you’re worried about her learning the formulas that govern that kind of skill I’m probably not your guy.”

“She responds to you,” May countered. “Not to mention if I can see your process maybe I can find a middle ground where she can be comfortable and still learn what she needs to know.”

Clint still doubted that what he knew was translatable, but under the circumstances he wasn’t in the mood to deny Melinda much of anything.

“How’s he doing, really?” he asked as the Playground finally came into view.

Clint glanced sideways and was startled to see May smiling very slightly. “He’ll be doing much better once he can see for himself that you’re alive and okay. He’s been functioning, but Fury left him with a mess and worrying about you hasn’t helped.”

Once again he was grateful it was Melinda and Skye who had come for him – that assessment coming from anyone else would have sounded like that person was trying to make him feel guilty about Coulson’s state of mind. Clint was coming to understand that he was capable of doing that just fine all on his own.

Still, he helped May bring the quinjet in for a textbook landing; dutifully staying put until every task was properly completed. “I’ll show him where the director’s office is,” Skye announced – she’d gotten to her feet as soon as they settled on the hangar floor.

Spinning in her chair, Melinda fixed her trainee with a stare that Clint had seen make fully grown men wet themselves before reconsidering their life choices. “You’re going to dress and stow your weapon, then get yourself some dinner. The director does not need an audience for this.”

Reaching out, Clint gripped Skye by the shoulder. “Thanks, runt – I mean it. I owe you big time.”

Smiling warmly, Skye threw herself into his embrace. “We’re even,” she murmured in his ear, before kissing him on the cheek. “Just make him smile again, okay?”

It was an interesting request, and so very Skye that all Clint could do was nod. “Anything else I need to know?” he asked May as the two of them headed down the ramp after Skye.

“Anybody else would think your nerves were cute?” she asked, shooting him a wicked side-eye. Suitably chastened, Clint fell silent until they reached a wall of windows. Clint could see a desk in the cluttered room, and a familiar form working away on the computer.

May laid a hand on his arm. “He’s going to be happy to see you.”

Realizing that she wasn’t going to come with him any further, Clint nodded, then headed on his own for the entrance to the new SHIELD director’s office.  
*******************************************  
He’d haunted the hangar for a couple of hours after receiving word that Melinda and Skye had successfully retrieved Clint, but finally – aware of the stares he was drawing – Coulson forced himself to return to his office and try to get some work done. He wasn’t successful at first, but eventually the almost ritualistic aspect of reading through the intelligence they’d managed to gather and annotating it for review with his senior people later drew his thoughts away from worrying about his lover and towards what all of them were facing in a world where SHIELD was the enemy.

“You are the most incredible thing I’ve seen in months.”

Startled, Coulson came to his feet almost before his brain was able to confirm that ‘yes’, it was Clint who had spoken, and ‘yes’, the love of his life was really standing in his office alive and at least relatively whole. He swallowed hard, suddenly trembling with emotion. “I could say the same. How…um…are you?”

Clint shook his head. “Wrong question.” He moved forward, everything about him turning almost predatory. “In fact,” he went on, cupping the base of Coulson’s skull between his hands and pulling him in close, “any question that doesn’t involve how fast I can get you out of this suit is going to be a wrong question.”

Before Phil could respond, Clint leaned in and kissed him. It was fierce, possessive and demanding, and after a moment Coulson yielded – letting Clint walk him backwards until his thighs bumped into the edge of his desk. Visions of pushing everything to the floor flashed through his mind before Coulson managed to struggle free. “Not here,” he managed, putting a hand on Clint’s chest to hold him at least marginally at bay.

“Where?” Barton growled; a sound that seemed to vibrate through Coulson’s body, straight to his cock.

“My quarters,” Coulson replied, thinking about the number of closets and storage rooms between where they were and where they were heading.

Drawing a shaky breath, Clint nodded – letting him go. “Lead the way. And just so you know?” he added, flashing Coulson a wicked grin. “Every second you make me wait is another button I’m going to bite off that shirt.”

Coulson felt his face flush with heat, but managed to return the archer’s grin. “Deal.”


End file.
